


Conversations with Space Pirates

by for_t2



Category: Original Work
Genre: Artificial Intelligence, Coffee, Cold, F/F, Lesbians in Space, Nonbinary Character, Outer Space, Planets, Soldiers, Space Pirates, Spaceships, comets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:13:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21550600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/for_t2/pseuds/for_t2
Summary: Some pirates chase after their prey, others wait for their prey to come to them
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Kudos: 12





	Conversations with Space Pirates

Hanging in the hydrogen mist, nitrogen droplets condensing on its wings, the starship Allik waits, one small artificial speck in the atmospheric depths. 

Designated R11, the gas giant had once circled around some distant unknown star. Now, its path led it through the interstellar void, far away from sunlight, alone. But not without visitors – the planets’ vast deposits of gases and ices make it the perfect refuelling spot for ships crossing the long distances between stars.

And the perfect spot for an ambush.

**_Repère_ **

The small light flashed blue in the ceiling, centimetres above the semi-asleep body curled up in the hammock.

It didn’t stop blinking.

“All right. All right!” Mel groaned as she slipped out of bed, landing ungracefully on the grey metal floor despite the low gravity. “What’s up?”

“High-albedo object approaching orbit.”

“This better not be another comet,” she mumbled as she slipped a sweater over her head, her breath going white in the cool darkness of the ship.

“It isn’t,” the AI’s voice came over the speakers. “I think.”

Everyone goes to space for a different reason. For some people, it’s the promise of adventure. For others, the promise of riches. Others just want to escape. For Mel, it was science. She graduated with her pilots’ licence just as radioarcheology was starting to boom on her homeworld of Omak. The idea of flying between the stars, picking up long lost messages on radio waves that leaked into the void, was the most exciting thing she had ever heard of.

Unfortunately, all booms end in a crash.

Everyone stays in space for the same reason. Because it becomes their home. Because there’s nowhere to go, nowhere else they could imagine being. After a long battle of copyright lawsuits and national security classifications, the _United Federation Restrictions on Radioarcheology Act, 2245_ brought a swift end to Mel’s career, and the newborn stigma of having been involved with that type of work left her with little hope of resurrection.

Not that she wanted it.

“Hmm.” Mel rifled through the cabinet in the galley, pulling out the last packet of instant coffee. “Remind me about these when we get back to port.”

“Caffeine ingestion is inadvisable before a jump.”

“Jumping is inadvisable.” At least the way they did it. Besides, with the life support systems turned down to a minimum, how else was she supposed to stay warm?

“Especially when your insulin stores are running low.”

Crap. Just another thing to add to the list. “We can go as soon as we get this ship, Alli.” The food reassembler pinged, one sorta-fresh cup of coffee, steam spilling out and around Mel. “And if this goes well,” Mel flopped back onto the small couch. “We can get that colour matrix upgrade.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Everyone stays in space because they find something to love. Out in the great expanse, the cosmic ocean, however you want to call it, everyone stays because they find something or someone that makes the universe a little less overwhelming, a little more like home.

**_Confirmation_ **

146 minutes, 28 seconds.

In space, things move quickly. With all non-essential systems turned off, to make it easier to hide in the cold planetary winds, to charge the jumps engines to maximum, the only way for a ship like the Allik to find a target is through passive sensors – visual sensors first and foremost. The problem, of course, by the time a possible ship finds its stationary orbit and starts to scoop for fuel, the Allik is halfway around the planet. And so they need to wait until the orbits intersect again to properly identify their target.

“It’s a what?”

“A troop ship,” Alli replied, curiosity and concern mixing into their synthetic voice. “Nipissing-class. Carries 6500 soldiers in suspended animation, armed with twenty photon canons, twelve long-range pulse lasers, seven—”

“I get the point.” Mel flicked through the sensor readings, her brow crinkled in thought.

“And additional hull shielding.”

“What’s a troop ship doing in this lane?” It had been years since the United Federation had deployed peacekeepers. And years before that that a single planet had deployed soldiers outside of their own borders.

“We shouldn’t jump,” the AI’s voice cut through more forcefully than it usually does.

“There weren’t any rumours when—”

“Mel.”

“Alli?”

“We shouldn’t jump. I don’t know if we can get past their shielding.” Mel leaned back in the pilot’s chair. “And if we don’t…”

There are a lot of different types of piracy, from false distress beacons to planting a mole on ships to force them out of hyperspace, and every space pirate knows theirs. The most dangerous was what they called jumping – “short-range high-velocity hyperjumping with intent” as the official legalese deemed it. The idea was simple enough: hide somewhere where the target’s sensors won’t reach (like the depths of a rogue giant’s atmosphere), and then make a short jump right on top of them.

Incredibly risky, but if you survive the jump, an almost perfect success rate.

“We should at least make a third orbit. Just in case more are on their way.”

“Their sensors will pick us up.”

“Then we should sink lower.”

“Not enough fuel.”

“Jumping a troop ship carries extra legal penalties.”

“I already have enough legal contraventions to lock me away forever.” The new government who took power three years ago made a special point to crack down on piracy in their manifesto. “And, you…” Mel didn’t need to mention the _United Federation Restrictions on Artificial Intelligences Act, 2251_. The new government had promised a lot of crack downs.

“I know.”

Mel stopped in front of the engine room door. “Alli, if you don’t want to do this, we won’t.” And waited. An answer never came. “Alli?”

It took them another moment. “Let’s do this.”

The problem with short-range jumping is that jump engines simply aren’t designed to do it. They’re designed to get a ship across a distance of light-years within a reasonable range of accuracy, not a range of mere thousands of kilometres with pinpoint accuracy. The amount of energy that takes puts an enormous amount of strain even on modified engines.

“Alli, can you double-check the left coil?”

“Within acceptable ranges. For now.”

Of course, it’s supposed to work out that way – the time it takes to load the engines drains power from the rest of the ship, making it easier to hide, and the explosiveness of a jump generates a shockwave that disables the target. But all it takes is one mistake, one misplaced decimal point, and the jump tears the ship apart. Or worse, it leaves the ship stranded and defenseless, in the middle of nowhere, or helpless in front of the Federation enforcers.

“You sure?” Mel squinted at it. “It looks kinda wonky.”

“We’ll need to replace after this jump.”

“Ah, crap.” The most valuable thing troops have is weapons and intelligence, both of which mean dealing with the parts of the black market that scare most pirates. But Mel promised Alli an upgrade, so… “Crap.”

Some jumpers don’t go over their engines before a jump. Their causality rate is… a little higher. Others, like Mel, do. The downside is that if she ever gets captured, the Federation has a lovely record of precisely every criminal activity she’s ever done. Mel would never admit, but she’s mildly embarrassed but just how long it is.

“How much longer?” Mel strapped herself back into the pilot’s seat. Let herself relax. Remember the procedure.

“1 minute, 29 seconds until optimal jump coordinates.”

“Cool. Cool. Cool.” Let herself feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins, the electricity tingling through her nerves. Let herself remember the rush of jumping from standstill to explosion.

“1 minute.” Even the AI sounded excited.

“Hey, Alli?”

“Mel?”

30 seconds.

“Je t’aime.”

“Love you too.”

5 seconds.

“Ready?

**_Saut_ **


End file.
